


Deidara and Sasori host a joint art exhibition and Hidan ruins it all

by Frostberry



Series: Kakuzu and Hidan being very Australian dickheads [4]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Akatsuki - Freeform, Black Cats, Im an asshole, deidara and sasori are hipsters, did i mention cats, hey look jashin references, hidan being a fucking idiot as usual, itachi and kisame are police officers, kakuzu just wants to have nothing to do with them ever, lots of swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-29 15:32:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12633984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frostberry/pseuds/Frostberry
Summary: Fourth segment in the series where Hidan and Kakuzu are very Australian dickheads. In this dreadful segment, Deidara and Sasori secure funds for an art exhibition while the black cats in the neighbourhood descend to Hidan for a ritual in the name of Jashinism. Kakuzu is not impressed.





	Deidara and Sasori host a joint art exhibition and Hidan ruins it all

**Deidara and Sasori host a joint art exhibition and Hidan ruins it all**

  
  


The tram screeched to a halt outside the city centre, jolting the people standing up leaning on the belts and staring at their phones. Most of the occupants clambered out, jabbing the open button several times before leaving and going into work. 

 

Kakuzu was the last out, pulling his scarf over his face a little so that people wouldn’t stare at his Glasgow smile. He checked his watch, and seeing he had a few extra minutes, he ordered a tea from Gloria Jean’s. He thought about his dog, Taki, who whined when he left home today, and also the amount of paperwork he needed to do tonight. He was about to go into the bank when he stopped dead, feeling irritation bubbling up in his veins. 

 

Hidan was standing outside the Commonwealth Bank, with  _ his _ dog, silent, with a stolen Jehovah’s stand which read  _ WHAT DOES THE BIBLE REALLY TEACH?  _ stocked with Jashinism pamphlets. 

 

His eyes followed Kakuzu very creepily as he stalked past and gave him the middle finger. Kakuzu looked down at the dog. He couldn’t quite figure out how Hidan had managed to take his dog when Kakuzu left home approximately 28 minutes ago. 

 

Kakuzu clocked in with a clean fingerprint and immediately Hinata came up to him and told him there were two people here to see him in his office. He grunted and put his bag down, turning away from her to stalk into his office. 

 

Sasori was staring at a platypus money bank which Deidara was rotating in his hand.. Both were examining it closely. 

 

“Commercialised art, yeah… Will never break down in the environment…” 

 

“It will last forever then.” 

 

“Wrong, Master Sasori! It will break down in billions of years. Goes against everything I stand for. Everything should disappear or break down-” 

 

“It’s not for art.” Kakuzu put his tea down, the teabag label sticking to the reusable plastic takeaway cup. He pulled his wheely chair out to sit down in front of a computer and tablet. “It was manufactured in a sweatshop to teach children  how to save money.” 

 

“Which sweatshop?” asked Sasori, as if he’d know which one it was made in. 

 

Kakuzu shrugged. “Don’t know, don’t care.” 

 

Deidara put the money bank down with a huff and crossed his arm. The stump of his elbow was hiding underneath a long sleeved shirt that was literally just a picture of an explosion. 

 

“What are you doing here, anyway?” Kakuzu asked. “And why is Hidan outside with his stupid pamphlets?”

 

Both of them started talking at once - Sasori stopped, as he was the quieter and grumpier of the two - to let Deidara moan and whinge about how an arts grant they applied for was rejected because there was  _ one  _ spelling mistake on it.

 

“Its fucked because he’s left handed.”

 

You asked  _ Hidan  _ to edit?” Kakuzu wasn’t actually sure if he’d ever seen him read, or write, or do anything that he could have learned in school besides fill out a form several years ago. 

 

“There’s a  _ smudge  _ he did…” Sasori grabbed the application form and Deidara pointed a rough finger at the form to show right into Kakuzu’s face. “Because of his left handedness, there’s a smudge and he fucked it up for us, yeah.” 

 

Hidan had edited the form with a biro that didn’t work properly. There was a large scribble where the pen had run out, and he nearly torn through the paper to get it working again. 

 

“Going to university does not mean you’re smart,” said Kakuzu, remembering Hidan telling him about the time he was kicked out of his university for being a pain in the ass. “Next time I’ll edit it. You want a loan for an exhibition?” 

 

They went into an explanation of what they were doing. Sasori had the opportunity to rent out a large pop up gallery, Deidara found out somehow and pressured Sasori to exhibit with him. Their contradicting art views was giving Kakuzu a headache. Deidara was very adamant that everything should at least disappear hence why they had soy ink in their printer and recycled paper and probably sipped lattes from reusable takeaway cups, and Sasori believed everything should be eternal and had his views on things that lasted forever: plastic, oil, Keanu Reeves, etc. 

 

“...” 

 

Kakuzu could not understand the stupidity of Deidara and Sasori sometimes. “You two are just stupid as Hidan, you know that?” 

 

They argued once more. “It was fresh from the printer that’s why he smudged it.” 

 

“No. He smudged it because you decided to use soy ink, it breaks down in the environment.” 

 

Another argument broke out between the pair of them, until Kakuzu slammed his fist down on his desk, and the platypus money bank fell off and landed at their feet. 

 

“Put your signatures here, and here,” he threw the CommBank tablet at them, “$10,000 grant will go to your accounts. Now get the hell out of my office, and take Hidan with you.” 

 

He forged the rest of the form, checking their bank details and credit along the way, not giving a fuck what he was doing was illegal, because both of them would not shut the fuck up about art, and today was not his day. Then again, it was never Kakuzu’s day. 

 

***

  
It had now been three days, five hours and forty five minutes and Hidan still had his damn dog. Kakuzu decided to walk the five minutes and forty seconds it took to get to his unit, which the idiot still lived in even though he barely paid rent to Sasori and Deidara. To get Hidan to give him his damn dog back, he brought along a little bit of leftovers as bribery, because he wasn’t going to eat it anyway and it was easier to feed him like a child instead punching him through the wall and paying their landlord for the damage. 

 

Rock music blared out from the shed out the back as Kakuzu knocked. Instantly Taki was barking and scratching at the fly screen and Hidan’s nose appeared around the door. “Fuck you want?” 

 

Kakuzu showed him a takeaway container of food. “Give me my dog back.” 

 

Hidan kicked the door open till it banged on the adjoining brick wall, screeching long enough for Kakuzu to walk in. Taki’s paws scratched along the lino, tail wagging so hard it looked as though it would snap in two. Hidan sat down on the lounge which doubled as his bed - Kakuzu could see the scattered Domino’s boxes poking out from underneath. He pried the chopsticks apart and opened the container, and sniffed the contents suspiciously. He then stopped dead to stare at Kakuzu, who had closed the front door so the cold air couldn’t get in.

 

He looked back at his dinner with a mistrustful eye. “This is a  _ vegetable,” _ he emphasized, pointing a wooden chopstick at a piece of broccoli.

 

“And?”

 

He made a cringey face. “You’re making me eat a vegetable?” 

 

“A lot healthier than the microwaveable BBQed ribs you seem to have every second day.” He paused, then looked at the McDonalds chicken nugget box. “Or junk food.” 

 

Hidan gave Kakuzu a filthy look. “How can you eat rabbit food?” 

 

“Maybe if you knew how to cook the animals you seem to slaughter you wouldn’t be spending your money on BBQ ribs.” 

 

“The ants and the foxes and cats eat the animals I slaughter anyway. Circle of life and all that shit,” Hidan’s voice was starting to rise, and Kakuzu could sense him trying to argue, but there was a loud knock on the door and he stopped. “For fuck’s sake,” Hidan muttered under his breath, dropping the takeaway container, and went over to open the door and flyscreen. 

 

Kakuzu turned from the coffee table he was sitting on, to see two police officers in crisp clean dark blue jackets and fluro vests. The taller one, with the tattoos under his eyes, whom Kakuzu recognised as Kisame Hoshigaki, stepped forward. The smaller one nodded at Kakuzu, and Kakuzu nodded back. Itachi Uchiha was one of the last people he operated on as a cardiologist before changing careers to become a banker. 

 

“I’m Officer Hoshigaki,” He said to Kakuzu rather to Hidan, “And this is-” 

 

“I know who you are, Eiffel 65. Whaddya want?” Hidan drawled. “You’ve been round here fifteen times in the last five frickin’ years.” 

 

Taki barked once, then wandered away out the back where several large bangs were heard. 

 

“Stupid fucking housemate is creating his usual shitty art,” Hidan clarified, watching Itachi’s eyes slide from him to the general direction of the backyard. “You guys kinda… know this, already?” He put on a slow voice as if he was being stupid to the officers. “He’s not blowing anyone up.” 

 

“We are not here for Deidara’s art,” said Uchiha, not giving a shit that Hidan was being a twat. 

 

“We’ve had a theft of black cats in the area. Halloween is coming up, and black cats are usually known for…” 

 

“Halloween? Fucking American capitalist-” 

 

“Hidan,” said Kakuzu, getting up to converse better to the officers because Hidan tended to piss people off, “Shut up.” 

 

“We’ve had thirteen black cats missing,” said Hoshigaki. “We’re going door to door asking if you have seen any black cats in the area, or if you have any, please don’t let them out.” 

 

“Do you have any photos of the cats?” Kakuzu suggested. 

 

Hidan threw him a look. “All black cats look the same.” 

 

“Haven’t seen any,” Kakuzu said. “Try the next house.” 

 

The officers left, Uchiha jumping slightly at the sound of another explosion coming from the shed. Hidan kicked the flyscreen and the front door shut, and walked out the back, Kakuzu idly following him. 

 

Immediately upon entering the backyard there were several mewing sounds, coming from the pavement. Three or four black cats circled around Hidan’s legs; he was crouching down to pat them. 

 

“What are these?” 

 

Hidan looked at Kakuzu as if he was dumb. “Black cats.” 

 

“Why? Because it’s Halloween?” 

 

“No, Lord Cuntington,” Hidan said. “I’m saving them.” 

  
“There’s a difference between  _ you _ saving them and anybody else saving them-” 

 

The rest of the cat gang came out of the shed, where Deidara was inside. Kakuzu counted thirteen, exactly the number that had disappeared in the area, and Taki sat beside him as. Slowly, the thirteen cats all sat in a perfect circle around Hidan. 

 

What the fuck.

How…? 

 

“Black cats love Jashinists,” Hidan explained, putting a grey strand of hair behind his ear. “Im blessed with immortality, and black cat’s souls stay with me if I ever pass away. It’s in the  _ Sacred Writ _ , chapter eighteen, page...” 

 

Considering Kakuzu had seen Hidan doing crazy shit like jump off buildings several stories high and only scrape his elbow, or run into traffic without dying, after all these years, Kakuzu actually believed he was an immortal shithead. 

 

Not wanting to start a debate about stupid shit like living forever, Kakuzu sidestepped several cats (every one of them was swishing their tails slowly from left to right in unison) to see Deidara’s art project, enabled by the grant he’d authorised a few days before.

 

In the musty shed, shelves were covered in little ceramic pots or animals like birds, baked from the kiln in the corner. Little paw prints covered the clay-ridden floor, which was a mix of dried up specks of brown and white dust. Kakuzu would have to clean his shoes later. In the middle was a large clay bird and next to it was Deidara was fiddling with chicken wire next to a pile of wires and yellowish-looking cotton wool. 

 

Deidara eyed the garage door that Kakuzu had come through. “Those creepy cats are leaving pawprints in my work, yeah. They fucking followed him here last week and haven’t left,” Deidara said.

 

“I can see you are spending the loan on bombs,” Kakuzu said, ignoring the chorale of uniform meowing outside which almost sounded like a church choir. 

 

“This clay bird is designed to explode in around 100 years time,” Deidara explained, and Kakuzu raised his eyebrows. 

 

“Why?” 

 

“So people can buy my art, of course. But they don’t know it’s got bombs in it. There’s a timer in each piece I’ve made. Usually I would have made them explode, but then they won’t sell. So I’m not actually mentioning it in any of my artist statements, no one will buy it but however I will create a rumour saying there are bombs in them, so people will buy it, yeah.”

 

Kakuzu couldn’t quite understand why Deidara decided to put timed explosions in his art. Deidara showed him the receipts for bulk clay he brought so Kakuzu could put it on his records. Soon after he left with Taki, who was quite pleased to have been reunited with his owner. 

 

***

 

Hidan, who didn’t actually have any money, shoplifted a book on the Nara murders. Kakuzu vaguely remembered it being mentioned on the news, but because he and Hidan has killed them several years ago. Kakuzu was so utterly unconcerned that he had honestly almost forgot about them. Hidan had apparently grabbed the book on the shelf and got an autograph by the author.

They’d gone out to the cemetery where they hidden dead bodies on a windy Sunday. Kakuzu had someone attempt to break into his townhouse the day before, and threatened him with a knife. Fortunately - well,  _ un _ fortunately for her - Kakuzu was already a mass murderer and was not afraid of people hooked on meth, and one crack to her neck left her collapsing to the floor, and then without thinking he took the knife and put it straight through her temple. 

 

It was a spring day, with the blueweed out covering the ground around the rusted frames that enclosed the gravestones. The birds were conversing idly up in the gum trees above, and a line of ants wound around Hidan’s feet, looking for food in the red dry dirt. 

 

“You know there’s a picture of you in here, Kakuzu?” Hidan said, leaning on a gravestone he’d carved a random name on so if someone asked why they were out in the middle of nowhere he could say they were visiting that particular grave. 

 

Kakuzu looked up, wiping sweat off his brow. He’d been digging a bit of dirt so that the pile of bodies in the grave had some space between them. “Why? There’s no leads connecting to us.”

_ “Homeless man wanted for questioning,”  _ Hidan read aloud from the small paperback. Kakuzu noticed the pictures of Shikamaru and Shikaku on the front cover, accompanied with police tape.  _ “Seen with a trolley and a laundry bag on night both father and son disappeared.” _

He turned the book towards Kakuzu. “Looks like you, but uglier.” 

 

It was a very pixelated CCTV shot of Kakuzu in the Woolworths car park lot several years ago, back when he had strangled Shikaku Nara. 

 

“They would have questioned me by now,” said Kakuzu. He put the shovel on the level ground and took a drink of water from a bottle.“Give me her head.” 

 

The head of the woman Kakuzu had killed was next to Hidan, who had been stroking her greasy hair idly. “I’m not giving you head.” 

 

“No - fucking idiot - give me that  _ woman’s  _ head.” 

 

“Can I kick it over, like a football?” 

 

“Just hand it over, moron.” 

 

Instead of doing either, he launched it from the hair, and it landed in the grave perfectly. Kakuzu began filling another foot of dirt in, and Hidan stretched his legs out and closed the book. 

 

“I’m thinking about getting a job. Can you get me a job?” 

 

This was possibly the most common sense Kakuzu had ever seen Hidan display. He swallowed, and decided instead of insulting him, he might as well attempt to help him. “I can be a reference,” Kakuzu offered, “But nothing else.” 

 

“Yeah, whatever,” said Hidan. “What can I be, besides unemployed?” 

 

“Instead of being unemployed have you thought about being a butcher?” 

 

“No.” 

 

“Why not? You would be good at it.” 

 

Hidan shook his head. 

 

“You could work at the florist with Konan,” said Kakuzu. “She’s hiring.” 

 

Hidan sniffed. “Fuck dat. Get hay fever.” 

 

“Police officer?” 

 

“Do I look like fucking Dexter? Don’t think that blue officer and the Uchiha pig would want me anywhere near their station.” 

 

“Religious Studies lecturer.” 

 

“No.” 

 

“Nurse.” 

 

“I’m dumb.” he clarified. 

 

“What career can you have? You don’t have to enjoy it.” 

 

Hidan blinked. “Game of Thrones extra.” 

 

“You can be a stuntman.” 

 

“Hmm.”

 

“Or, you could be an artist like Sasori and Deidara.” 

 

He didn’t answer. The reason why Hidan had no money was most of it was tithed to some Jashinist organisation, so wherever the heck  _ that  _ went, Kakuzu didn’t know. He imagined Hidan stuffing cash into an envelope and sending it overseas to some exotic place like the Americas. The rest of the money went to the health club membership down the road - no matter how many times Kakuzu tried to tell him to stop paying $129.95 a week - Hidan did spend a lot of time there as it had a sauna. 

 

***

 

The next day, however, Hidan did have a job. Kakuzu’s car was not in his garage, accompanied by a text saying, ‘i borrOWED you ducking car thanks for lettinh me k bye’. He didn’t actually read the text before he got home after work, to find Hidan had apparently stolen the car at 6:48AM. 

 

“I am now a medical specimen deliverer.” he said, reversing into Kakuzu’s tiny garage that night.  

 

“You mean a courier.” Kakuzu deadpanned. 

 

“I deliver blood, body parts, DNA and actual shit to the hospitals around the city.” 

 

It didn’t sound very thrilling. Hidan parked the car perfectly and got out. 

 

“Stupid fucking housemate sold a clay bird for like, ten grand or some shit. So he can pay the loan off.” 

 

***

 

Kakuzu entered the unit to see Deidara sitting hunched over a laptop on the sofa, a graphics tablet pen in his hand. Sasori was not present, as usual. After much arguing, Deidara explained, they had settled on picking the exhibition name which complemented their opposite artistic styles. 

 

_ Death Till We Part  _

 

_ “ _ Sounds pretty fucking gay for two men who are gay for each other,” said Hidan, peering at the photoshopped banner Deidara had made.

 

“Fuck you.” 

 

“Go have a wank into that puppet Sasori made of himself.” 

 

Deidara whacked him in the head with a  _ thump _ and turned back to hunching over his laptop. Kakuzu was surprised that Hidan knew Sasori’s name after living with them for several years. 

 

“When’s the exhibition?” 

 

“It’s next week, it’s a pop up exhibition, yeah,” Deidara said, then seeing Kakuzu’s questioning look, he said, “It’s where there’s a surprise as to what’s going to go on,” he explained. “They change over their art pretty quickly. It’s always held on the first Friday of every month. So at the opening, the gallery offers hors d’oeuvres, and there’s usually some performance art, so it’s a pretty big deal, yeah. The rumours have been going around in the newspaper about my exploding birds so it’s gathered some interest. Because of that, someone brought my large clay bird for ten thousand, so I can pay you seven thousand now for the loan. Sasori can pay the rest.”

“Why did you only get seven thousand for it if you sold it for ten thousand?” Hidan asked. 

 

“Because of commission? Because it was contracted to be at the gallery, they took away a percentage of sale.” 

“What a waste of money.” 

 

“It goes towards the gallery maintaining rent, and to support the arts and charity.” 

 

“Charity is a waste of time. When I was a poor piece of shit they didn’t give me a single cent.”

“You are still a poor piece of shit, yeah,” Deidara pointed out. “Stop spending money on shit you don’t need and pay rent for once.” 

 

He handed Kakuzu a receipt for the money, and he took a photo on his phone for reference, so he could take it out of Deidara’s account later. 

 

“Can I put something in the exhibition?” Hidan asked. 

 

“No.” 

 

“Why not? Art looks easy.” 

 

“Art is not easy, it is years of hard work and study, yeah.” 

 

“Whatever.” said Hidan. “Here’s my art.” Kakuzu glanced at Hidan to see him do the  _ up yours  _ motion with two fingers. 

 

“So mature,” Kakuzu drawled, taking his glasses off and putting them in his breast pocket. He handed the receipt back to Deidara. 

 

***

  
  


It was the day of the exhibition, and Deidara had roped Kakuzu into being the ‘manager’ of their financial dealings - he would be taking a 12% cut of their art if they sold anything. He took the day off work to help them set up. 

 

Hidan had asked fifteen times in total if he could be in the exhibition, which prompted Deidara and Sasori to have him officially banned from the venue. The pop up gallery was in the CBD, but in the grimy area where loud nightclubs blared day and night, and prostitutes talked loudly on their phones in fur coats and sheer leggings. Seven different people asked Kakuzu for money before he finally found the gallery in an alleyway. 

 

Hidan was not present, which was good. At least Kakuzu could manage to have a proper conversation with Deidara and Sasori without him fucking up and insulting them, which usually resulted in Deidara whacking him with his only hand. 

“Did you bring the extra hooks?” Sasori asked, using a long fingernail to open up a box which contained several taxidermied birds. The birds were to be displayed alongside Deidara’s clay ones, as a collaboration. They were to hang from the ceiling with clear wire. 

 

Kakuzu reached into his bag and handed over the packets of hooks. Deidara was on top of a ladder, scratching out and smoothing over a cat pawprint he had missed. 

 

“Where’s Hidan?” 

 

“Working. Or killing himself and not dying. Either one.” 

 

“He said he was going to be putting something in the exhibition,” said Sasori. “He may be working on his masterpiece before we kick him out.” 

 

Deidara scoffed. “He has no idea about art. It’s years of struggle, years of creativity and experimentation. True art will last a second in time, but an eternity in the universe, where we eventually all turn back into the cosmos and become our true awakened selves, all as one.  _ Death till we part,  _ or  _ death till we art _ .” 

 

Kakuzu could not speak art-speak or this spirituality bullshit, so he ignored Deidara’s ramblings about it. He picked up the price list (done on recycled paper and soy ink) and had a read of the prices. “These are very high,” he said. “You’re taking out the vast majority of people who want affordable art.” 

 

“There’s direct deposit available, yeah,” said Deidara. 

 

Kakuzu sighed. He was not looking forward to this at all. 

 

A few hours later, the exhibition space had transformed into a cornucopia of clay and taxidermy and occasionally puppets - including one self portrait sculpture Sasori did of himself that was not for sale. It looked just like him, but made out of wood and painted in oils. At around 6.30PM the crowd came in, admiring the birds, asking Deidara is there really were bombs in the art (“Just don’t touch them, yeah…”). Kakuzu saw a few people he knew and listened to their conversation, and then whenever someone approached the sales desk, he would go over. While getting a glass of wine from a waiter, he saw out the corner of his eye a large white square that was definitely not part of the exhibition, and grey hair poking out the top. 

 

Whilst the crowd started to circle around the middle for the the performance art, Kakuzu turned away and went over to Hidan who had just appeared. “What the  _ hell  _ are you doing?” he hissed, as the lights went dark and focused on the lone figure - Deidara - who had gone from wearing a nice suit to wearing only loose pants and was barefoot. He started to speak, but Kakuzu ignored him in favour of Hidan. He took a good look at the canvas while Hidan pulled clear wire down to put into the hooks attached to the frame. 

 

Hidan had brought a large canvas - almost as big as he was - and had squeezed paint out of a tube which was starting to slowly drip down onto the floor. A large (perfect) circle, with a triangle in the middle. 

 

How utterly predictable. Kakuzu touched the paint with his fingers, and it came off on them. “It’s still wet.” 

 

“Yeah, I stole the wrong paint from Sasori’s studio. It’s oil when I should have gotten the other shit that dries quicker.” Hidan pulled the wire again, and it swayed dangerously on an angle, and instead of getting more clips and adding extra wire so the large canvas was aligned properly, he just tied up the remaining wire. 

 

Kakuzu looked back to the performance art, where everyone was concentrating on a projector. Deidara had taken an old touchscreen laptop and laid it flat on the ground. The screen showed that Deidara had opened up Microsoft Paint and was using the pixel brush to make jagged movements. 

 

“They say anyone can create art. Our work explores the fundamental relationship between the inherent necessity of life and death. Nobody can escape it. Ever since I was a teenager I was fascinated by the idea of art. What is it? It starts out as a triumph, being able to use something as simple as a laptop to create a masterpiece that leaves only a sense of decadence and the possibility of a new reality, our brain waves form new connections when we appreciate this art that…” 

 

Kakuzu at this point had no idea what bullshit Deidara was sprouting, but from the nods of the crowds, they had an idea. Something brushed at Kakuzu’s leg, and he looked down to see that Hidan had apparently brought all the black cats from the backyard. 

 

_ “What!?” _ he hissed.

 

“They followed me here,” Hidan snapped back. “They’re here to make sure I can get the spotlight for the truth of Jashinism.” 

 

_ Whatever _ . 

 

“So can we say that this pixelated image that a child draws when introduced to Microsoft Paint is art? It can be erased, it can be saved, it can be deleted forever. But only for a quick moment in time. Master Sasori tells me art should last forever. What if there is another Big Bang? Art will never,  _ ever  _ last forever… because art… is an explosion!” 

 

Several people screamed as the laptop suddenly caught fire, which, out of everyone in the room, Hidan, Sasori and Kakuzu were the only ones that were not surprised. The music stopped as the flame roared high, licking the ceiling - but then the music stopped, and so did the flame. It was now pitch black and there was loud applause from the crowd as the lights came back on. Deidara bowed, the laptop now burnt to a crisp. 

 

Kakuzu had no idea what had just happened, but just figured it would be what they call ‘art’. 

 

***

 

The night went on, and it became very clear that Hidan had stolen the show from Deidara and Sasori, thanks to the cats which had resumed walking around Hidan in a circle. Now that Hidan was in the spotlight, he was looking more and more comfortable with the cameras and people filming. 

 

At first, they believed the cats were Sasori’s puppets, being animated to look just like real ones, but then when Sasori clarified that they were the ones from the backyard, and not his studio, they became even more curious. They started asking questions.  _ How did you tame them? How did they come into your possession? Do you give them food or do they share your diet?  _

 

“They follow my diet, which is all meat. Except for the other week, when I ate a vegetable.” 

Kakuzu sighed inwardly, expecting the police to show up any minute to arrest him for catnapping the thirteen black cats. It was only a few hours later when the crowd started to thin, and by 10PM, only Deidara, Sasori, Hidan and Kakuzu were the only ones left. The cats had disappeared, probably slinking back to their original owners. 

 

Hidan was the only one who had sold something during the entire night. He gave the three of them what was probably the biggest, craziest smirk he had ever made in his life. 

 

“So why did you decide to bring cats to steal our show, and ruin our exhibition by bring your Jashin ideology with you?”

 

“What did we do to piss you off, yeah?” asked Deidara. 

 

“That’s what you get for being racist towards left handers, you shitheads.” 

 

FIN 


End file.
